


Don't Be Allergic to Me

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chocolate is Better than Sex, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Derek is Better than Chocolate, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Stiles is a Silly Boy, Temptation, Valentine's Day, Werewolves are Allergic to Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Stiles convinces the pack that wolves=dogs and thus are allergic to chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Be Allergic to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompt #5 - Temptation at the fullmoon_ficlet community at Livejournal. I do not own Teen Wolf, but I love to play here. This is just a very silly bit of Valentine's Day fluff.

“Stop!” Stiles manages to wedge himself between Allison, Scott and Isaac and quickly scoops the boxes of chocolates from their hands. After a moment’s reconsideration he drops the one labeled _To Allison with all my love, Scott_ back into Allison’s hands. “Whoops, sorry there, got caught up in the moment.”

“Dude!” Scott shoulders Stiles. “What are you doing?”

Stiles tries really hard not to think about the boxes in his hands and what they _say_. Because really, Scott gave chocolates to Isaac? And Isaac gave chocolates to Scott? Why is Stiles always the last to know anything where the wolves are concerned. “Dude,” Stiles says seriously. “What _are_ you?”

“Werewolf,” Scott replies easily. “Why?”

“Dude, you are a _dog_.” Stiles nods quickly. “Wolves are of the canis breed, which means that part of your DNA is now furry and canine. And what are dogs allergic to?”

“Chocolate,” Allison says with a small lilt of laughter.

“Exactly!” Stiles gestures with the boxes of candy (including the one from Allison to Scott). “You should all know better! Unless you meant to kill him with this, Allison, in which case _well done_ , but I’m confiscating it. For his health. And you two—” Stiles jabs a finger at Scott’s chest, then Isaac’s. “Do _not_ be tempted into having one of Allison’s chocolates. Because it would be _that_ easy,” he snaps his fingers, “to overdose and there you’d be with an elevated heart rate, puking all over, and none of you are going to die on _my_ watch.”

He doesn’t stay to watch the bemused expressions. Stiles is _saving_ them, after all, as he absconds with the chocolate.

#

Derek climbs in through the window and flops onto the bed where Stiles sits, hunched over his laptop. “Everyone’s cranky today,” he says.

“And that’s my problem?” Stiles shrugs one shoulder, reaching out to grab a chocolate from an almost empty heart-shaped box and pop it in his mouth. His fingers fly over the keyboard. So maybe he’s had a bit of sugar. Okay, a lot of sugar. And theobromine. Which is like caffeine, only in chocolate instead of coffee. Chocolate is good. Very good. Exceptionally good. “It’s Valentine’s Day, which is supposed to be all about hearts and love, but truth is, most teenagers are cranky. Something to do with being single.”

“I think it’s the chocolate.”

Stiles glances up at Derek, his mouth full of something that involves dark chocolate, pecans, and caramel. “Mmph?”

“Everyone reported that their chocolate was stolen.” Derek glances past Stiles at the empty box, the almost empty box, and the several boxes waiting beyond that. “Something about you barging in and leaving with some thin excuse…”

“It could be true,” Stiles protests. After all, wolves _are_ canines, and canines _are_ poisoned by chocolate. Right?

“I think you’re bothered by being single when everyone else isn’t.” Derek ticks them off on his fingers. “Boyd and Erica. Lydia and Jackson. Allison and Scott and Isaac.”

“When did that even _happen_ and how did I not know?” Stiles sulks. “Seriously? If Scott was going to get his gay on, he really should’ve let me know.”

“Jealous?”

“Maybe.” Stiles realizes what he’s said, and that it is _out loud_ a half beat after the word emerges from his mouth. As Derek laughs, Stiles tries to cover it. “No! Scott’s my best friend. I totally and completely do _not_ think of him like that. Him and Allison and Isaac, that’s cool. It’s totally cool.”

“What about you?” Derek leans back, arms behind his head, wife beater riding up to show a bit of a well-sculpted abdomen. Which Stiles isn’t looking at. Because speaking of gay… well… bisexual. It’s obvious Scott must be bi, and why didn’t he tell Stiles since Stiles thinks he told Scott _years_ ago that he’s into guys as well as girls. Wait. Didn’t he? Maybe he forgot.

“I asked a question.”

“Um.” Stiles licks his lips. He doesn’t want to answer that question. Because really, telling Derek that he’s sex on legs would not only be obvious to anyone with eyes but also hideously embarrassing since he highly doubts that Derek has any interest in him. He turns away and grabs another chocolate, something with fudge in the middle, and closes his eyes as he enjoys the taste of it.

Chocolate is as good as sex, right?

“Unf.” He doesn’t have a chance to get away when Derek shifts, moves, grabs Stiles and pushes him back onto the bed among the pile of boxes, mouth pressed to lips. Dark chocolate fudge _and_ Derek. Holy mother of God, but that is a fantastic taste combination. Stiles could die happy.

Instead he moans, a soft little whimper as Derek pulls away. Derek is straddling him, staring down. “Question,” Derek reminds him.

“You,” Stiles blurts, because really, Derek is _not_ kissing him right now. And he should be. Again. Many times. Often. With or without the chocolate. That he can see smeared across Derek’s lip and oh hell, he wants to taste that. Now please.

Derek grins, and for a moment his eyes flash. “Good.” He kisses Stiles again, lingering, teasing, drawing it out until Stiles wiggles beneath him. “You know werewolves aren’t allergic to chocolate, right?” he murmurs as his lips trail a chocolate marked path down Stiles’s throat.

“More for us?” Because Stiles knows that. He just… wanted the chocolate. He’ll make it up to them later. Much later. Like after Derek later.

Derek’s laugh is a low rumble this time, and after that, Stiles just stops caring. Because Derek is better than chocolate. Much _much_ better.


End file.
